Timothy Kight

“Come down!” said the willow,

“You’re burning my eyes!

And here I am, awake again.”

But no, I said, and it fell again.

Inside of itself I was

And it hid me there,

My own reflection bearing down,

Quite like the way a branch might lean

Before it snaps.

And it came.

I saw the touch,

The whispering of the breeze

Telling secrets to the hair on my neck,

Behind me.

You, come find me.

I sit here, three thousand years ago,

Garb in hand,

Sweating in your name.

For you kept me sound in my days

Before the rest of the wind followed.

Torn down like a branch is twisting about,

Thrashing in my lungs.

I have no way to fear this.

I have no way to fear this.

I have no way to fear this.

I have none.

And I snap.